


Wandering Whistles

by Jellyfiggles



Category: Cuphead (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Decisions, Cheating, Everyone Has Issues, First Kiss, Fourty-Something Years Ago, Gambling, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Unhealthy Relationships, Young Kettle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 09:28:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13431840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jellyfiggles/pseuds/Jellyfiggles
Summary: A young Kettle is down on his luck and wanders into the Devil's casino. And unwittingly catches the eye of the owner himself.





	Wandering Whistles

He’s down on his luck. Kettle leans back against the tree, the bark scraping his back as he uses a match to light the last of his tobacco. He puffs on his pipe, tobacco shining with the red of the charring light. The afternoon’s light is waning as evening sets in, the sun casting a golden glow through the trees and leaving long dark shadows in its wake. 

He untied his bindle from the stick and fingered the few coins he had left. Not enough for an inn and not enough to drink away his woes. Kettle swallowed, puffing on his pipe and looking towards the town. There was word of a casino beyond the town border… manned by the Devil himself. Kettle wasn’t sure if that was simply talk, to dissuade those from trying their luck, but he’s desperate and cold.

And willing to take a gamble.

\---

“Business is gettin’ too slow lad, I’m packin’ up and headin’ to the Mainland.” Kettle had frozen in front of Samuel Spokeshave, seeing the older man packing away his carpentry tools. He had been acting as the carpenters assistant for years, ever since his mother had passed when he was a boy.

“Bu-but…” Kettle swallowed and looked about the pokey workshop the older man kept. The spaces along the walls where tools were usually hanging. “What am I to do Sir? Mrs Hardbroom won’t let me board with her if I don’t ‘ave work…”

“Yer nineteen now lad, more than capable of makin’ yer own way in the world.” Samuel stood, fiddling with the wooden handles that stuck out on each side of his head. “I’m sorry boy, but there’s jus’ no work fer a lowly carpenter in these Isles.” He strode forwards and clasped both of Kettle’s shoulders, smiling at him sadly. “I believe you will do great things Kettle, lad.”

Kettle nodded, his eyes burning hot. He would make the man proud, work hard, maybe even make a name for himself. 

\--

The town is bustling with activity, despite the night drawing in. As the workshops and stores of the day close, the restaurants and taverns of the night were lighting up and opening their doors. Happy little flames bounce around in the street lamps and the air is thick with chatter and faint music. 

Kettle can feel the curious glances burning into his back as he walks through the streets with his bindle on his shoulder and his patched trousers. He wonders how odd he must look, a country bumpkin amongst all the city folk. He swallows and forces a friendly smile, stopping to ask people the way to the casino.

Their smiles fall and they shake their heads, muttering how he must have heard wrong or that they are running late, hurring past him. A few look him up and down and offer him a look of pity. He’s always been a determined man however, once he puts his mind to something he’ll see it through to the end. So he holds his head up and keeps asking.

He approaches a much older dog, a sailor by the looks of him, one eyed and slouched against the wall of a nearby tavern, a pipe in his maw. Kettle waves in greeting. “Good evenin’ Sir, do yer by any chance know the way ta the casino?”

The dog gives him a onceover, his furry brow raised and then he slowly reaches up for his pipe. He blows out the smoke in a deep sigh before his voice croaks out “Nothin; good goin’ ta come from that place lad. Yer’d best go back home.” 

Kettle adjusts his bindle, it’s wearing on his shoulder a fair bit. “I know my own mind Sir. If it’s as bad as they say I’ll leave there sharpish.”

The old dog laughs and coughs and takes another puff on his pipe before he reaches out a hand and claps Kettle’s free shoulder. “Too many’ve said the same laddy and come back worse for wear with a debt more’n they were willin’ ta pay.” The tips of his claws dig into Kettle’s shoulder. “The Devil will eat ya up boy.”

He grins and shrugs. “Well Sir, I’m not one ta give up without a fight. And I won’t be sellin’ nothin’ ta the Devil.”

The old dog sighs and shakes his head, his singe eye rolling. He points towards where the streets thin down and lead to a train track. “You’ll find it beyond them tracks.” His paw is still clasping Kettle’s shoulder. “Don’t let yerself get swindled lad, ya seem the good sort.”

Kettle smiles and steps back. “Thank yer Sir! You have a nice night now.” The dog puffs on his pipe and waves him off and he ignores the flicker of pity in the sailor’s single eye. 

He’s no fool, he’s just desperate.

\--

Kettle passes a theatre and is taken by the sight for a moment. Golly it’s a fancy-looking establishment, all fresh-navy paint and looping cursive on the sign outside. He’s never been to a theatre but he imagines what it must be like inside; red velvet curtains, an excited audience, the lights on the stage. The windows are bright and music filters out, as well as the muffled voices of the performers.

He heads on, the night air cool as a breeze rustles through the trees. He heads over a bridge, the waves of the ocean lapping far below and then he’s at the aforementioned tracks. There’s no sign of the train and the place is silent but for the rustle of leaves and the sea behind him. Kettle takes a breath, he can see a cave entrance beyond the tracks, it’s… grand to say the least.

There are stairs lit by gas lights, the red and gold of them striking even in the night. He’s never quite seen anything like it in his life. ‘Try Your Luck’ is painted on the base of the staircase and he feels a jolt in his stomach. This is his chance to turn back, to turn on his heel and leave. 

Kettle takes a breath and whistles a little. He’s not afraid. And then he’s carefully picking his way across the tracks and over to the steps. His footsteps echo as he walks through the cave doorway and he feels his nerves dancing.   
As soon as he steps through, the temperature begins to climb. He blinks in confusion, his hand reaching out to feel the surface of the rock. Caves were usually cold…

When he delves deeper and comes out in a gargantuan cavern he realises why. “Well I never!” Kettle gapes at the vision laid before him. An intricate building made from white marble and embellished with rich red and gold paint and sporting huge carvings of chess pieces and the Devil himself. And then beyond that… the cave… it was filled with volcanoes, oozing lava and spitting fire.

He swallows and wipes his sweating brow with the back of his hand, unsure if it’s from the heat or fear. He hadn’t believed the rumours that the Devil’s casino was truly rooted in Hell. He took a step back and felt his bindle almost slip. He eyed the stick on his shoulder and his tiny pack of meager belongings. If he went back empty-handed… well he wouldn’t be eating for a while.

Kettle turned back and strolled up to the red velvet carpet that led to the entrance. The statue of the Devil grinned up above and chilled him to his core but nevertheless he began to climb the stairway and pushed open the heavy doors.

TBC


End file.
